Colors of obsession

Please, stop pulling out the tears from my dry eyes.
Roots are stemming from the ground under my own feet.
Imprisoning me by the every thought of you that comes in my head.
Conclusion is that I love you.
But I'm obsessed.
Obsession is like a red triangle which gets fired every two minutes.
Suddenly you slip upon a sliding ice and jump into the burning roots in asylum of your own mind.
It only takes a half of a second.
Obsession is like a lava pouring out of the mountain of love through the web of tubes.
Quietly travelling until it fills the heaven in your head.
Heat is so bad, so your tears need to slip down your cheeks to cool you for awhile.
But it will keep heating.
And a silent violoncellist will keep playing the song of obsession until my screams fill this room,
Until my lungs receive the letter of doom,
To be placed in the greatest tomb.